Life after social media and the meandering thought stream of deep consciousness

Acid mist and parking lot prisons

Stuck in a cage in a metal box in a parking lot, smack dab in the middle of a political war zone and all I brought with me was myself. Shame. But there’s hope yet; the man I’ve never met has a gift for me. A tool to make me a weapon. Without me, it’s just scrap material full of caustic acid…but with me, ah yes, now we have something. My cage is a candle and I am the flame. Melt it down into something better; nothing. Faces like butter, and I the fucking frying pan. “Innocents!” I hear, but there is no one innocent in this place; I should know, I came here knowing that. Don the disguise and slip off into the shadows. Free again and I walk just like you.

Down the barrel. Taken from

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